14: A STRING OF BEADSThe next afternoon, Philip took Justine to a large house in a quiet avenue. They were
admitted to a small reception room, where they were kept waiting for a few minutes
before being ushered into a spacious ofﬁce where a large man in a suit and waistcoat
sat behind a desk. There were a few heavy, leather-bound books behind glass in a
case against one wall. On the other main wall were several country and riding scenes
in oils. There was little else in the room apart from a couch. The man had a ﬂorid
complexion and a port-coloured mark across his jaw and down his neck. He leaned
across the desk and extended his large pink hand in greeting to Philip, who took it
and shook it once.
‘Please, have a seat. Er, Mr Clement isnt it Please. said the man, pointing with a
large, precisely directing ﬁnger. Philip sat down. It seemed to be assumed that he
knew the name of the man behind the desk, who had not introduced himself. Nor
had Philip attempted to introduce him to Justine; she still stood, in the absence of any
invitation to do otherwise, and nobody attempted to bring her a chair. ‘Well. The
man with the large hands looked at her. ‘And what can we do for you, Mr Clement
How may we be of assistance
Philip was impatient his eyes turned away and looked at the blanker of the two
walls. His voice had a quick, cutting edge. ‘The problem has been explained, has it
not When his eyes struck back, the large man ﬂinched and Justines heartbeat
quickened.
‘Well . . . I take it this is she
190
Philip pointedly looked away again, but when his eyes met hers, Justine suddenly
felt that he was blaming her for the way that this other man annoyed him. She knew
from his expression that he wanted to punish her again, for this inconvenience, just
as he had punished her for seeing him with that woman. She knew that he would do
it for her as soon as they were alone.
‘Well, the man kept saying. ‘Yes. When it was obvious that no answer would be
forthcoming, he ﬁnally stood up and said tentatively: ‘The young lady will need to
undress. Then he pulled the bellcord. Philip nodded to Justine.
The man began to discuss the weather. Philip stared sullenly at the wall, but kept
looking back at Justine, who stood with her blouse unfastened but not removed, half
sheltering the bareness of her breasts and nipples, which stiffened against the gently
sliding material and against the fact that he was making her undress before a
stranger. She fumbled with her thick-buckled belt and the man was looking at her as
he kept saying, ‘Yes . . . Well, yes . . . in a low voice and Justine was so aware that beneath her skirt she was naked and shaved and he would see every contour of her
shape between her legs. And he would see her labia protruding, because Philip had
played with her in the carriage.

When her skirt fell away, the assistant appeared with a notepad and a pencil, and her
presence because she seemed prim and businesslike with narrow eyes and dark hair
tied tightly in a bun was more embarrassing than that of the men. The large man
conversed with the woman in a low voice while her sharp eyes criticised Justine and
her small tight ﬁngers gripped the pencil and wrote things down on the pad. Then
the woman said one word that was terrifying to Justine. The word was ‘doctor. She
called the man ‘doctor. Twice, she used the word. Justine felt dizzy and faint. She
put her hand to head.
‘Get undressed, said Philip, coming over to her, swirling across the turning room,
then catching her as she overbalanced. ‘Get undressed! Then to the man, he said,
‘Doctor,
do you want her on here She went limp at hearing that word again; he had to lift
her on to the couch and she felt unsteady because it was narrow and backless.
Philips annoyance was intense, but she couldnt do anything. She was drowning in
her mind, drowning in the terror of her memories of what they had put her through
the doctors when her lover had died.
Philip lifted Justine by the shoulders, pulled her blouse off, and she was nude. Her
breasts shook but he didnt want to touch them. He held her ribcage gathered and
almost contained within his hands. She was very beautiful and frail, so slimly boned,
with her breasts so swollen, pressing out against the unresisting muscle of her
slender upper-arms. And now, with her belly so naked, she looked more exquisite
still. She lifted her hands and tried to protect her breasts in the soft crooks of her
elbows, but Philip moved her arms away. She would have to get used to being
displayed and being touched and used by other men, as he would have to come to
terms with giving her. He made her open her legs. Then he allowed her to be
examined by the quack.
It was afternoon and the light was already failing. The assistant brought a lamp. The
large man washed his hands in a bowl, then dried them meticulously and for too
long. The scent from the bowl was of carbolic; it gradually diffused into the air as his
skin warmed while he touched her. He was thorough with her. He whispered to her
gently when he wanted her on her side. He reassured her through her shame. He
used cushions on which to lift her and he took her slim feet gently in his hand. He
communicated some of his ﬁndings to Philip. Once it had been established beyond doubt that the breasts themselves would require no attention, the physician, as he
was now seen (for he gradually gained promotion in Philips esteem, through the
delicate precision of the placing of those large, ungainly hands, and through his
manner, and the wisdom of his words), explained the options while the assistant,
hunched on a hard chair of her choosing, took occasional notes.